


The Most Fortunate (Unfortunate) Day

by ninanna



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor Midorima, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/pseuds/ninanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima was confused. Despite coinciding with the horribly unnecessary holiday of Valentine's Day, this particular February 14th was supposed to be the luckiest day for him yet everything continued going awfully, awfully wrong. The cherry on top: a stranger that hit his car. Or perhaps his car hit the man. (Or perhaps the destiny hit them both, who knew?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Fortunate (Unfortunate) Day

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing midotaka after seeing a prompt on "one of them hits the other with their car" :') This was written before Valentine's but I couldn't publish it before due to real life hijacking my fan fiction duties. Here it is though, I hope you all like it. (Especially my dear temp-- I hope you like it!)

 

**[From: Kise]**

**Happy Valentines Day!!** **(*** **≧∀≦** ***)**

 

Midorima stared at the text a few more seconds before dimming the screen of his smartphone with a button push. Actually, _no_ ; he pressed the button again and typed a quick response: “ **Die.** ”

 

_Yes, this is definitely better._

 

One should not question the gods of fate, but Midorima Shintarou had trouble understanding how this day—the 27th Valentine’s Day since he was born—was supposed to be full of good fortunate for Cancers.  He had already started the day in the worst possible way: by leaving the bed from the wrong side. Damn the long hours of ER duty that left him so tired that he made mistakes of this calibre! How could he betray himself like this?

 

The bed incident had definitely been a sign. Only minutes after, he had discovered his shower was broken: no hot water. A cold shower that left him trembling later, he had realised he was five whole minutes late in his morning routine due to extra time spent trying to warm up. As a result, he couldn’t have his morning tea. The lucky item of the day proved very hard to find as well—why weren’t purple haired, talking dolls more common these days? Thus, he finally arrived work thirteen minutes and four seconds late and that number in itself spelt misfortune in at least two distinct cultures.

 

And now Kise was texting him. For Valentine’s Day.

 

He would check the listing of the day’s fortune levels for each horoscope again if he hadn’t already—but he had. Three times to be exact and he did not want to make it four, for obvious reasons.

 

The 27th Valentine’s Day of his lifetime had so far been tremendously horrible, even though it had supposed to have been the opposite. “ _Perhaps the luckiest Cancers have ever been,_ ” Oha Asa had said.

 

  _But how?_

 

At least now he had his charm with him, excepting the irritating distraction he received from Kise, things would start to get better for the rest of his day, he thought.

 

“Oh, Midorima-san! Good that I found you. Tachibana-san is off today, apparently he got the flu. We need urgent help in the Paediatrics section. Director assigned you to fill in.”

 

_Scratch that._ Charm or not, even despite what the usually omniscient Oha Asa said, the day was not a fortunate one for him.

 

Midorima sighed and nodded to his superior politely, moving in the opposite direction he was walking just a minute ago. There were plastic hearts everywhere and they were so ugly. He truly did not like this nonsensical holiday created to sell more chocolates, which of course led to higher prevalence of diabetes type II. It was not just a personal worry overall, he affirmed in his mind: _it’s a professional one_. The second he entered the children’s unit, a kid started screaming, scratching Midorima’s eardrums.

 

This was definitely not his day.

 

And indeed, his day did not get any better later on either.

 

One of the kids who came in with a mild food poisoning case vomited all over him. When a curse escaped his mouth in an audible volume—because that particular green sweater was his lucky sweater _and_ a gift from his grandmother, _how dare he, that little devil_ —both the child’s mother and one of his colleagues, who was notorious for gossiping, gasped and chastised him. _Nice_. Now the story of “ _evil Midorima who hates kids and swears in front of them_ ” would be the most beloved topic of conversation in the hospital for at least a week.

 

It didn’t end there though. No, he wished it would have, but it did not: the only other wearable thing he could find in his locker was an orange t-shirt with a shoujo-eyed and huge carrot mascot on it saying “ _Eat your veggies lovelies!_ ”

 

It was from an event about importance of balanced diets he had to participate the previous year (because all of the staff had been forced to attend—even remembering made him shiver with dread) and the only reason he had kept it was because it had seemed like a useful, potential lucky item; it could match anything from orange cloth to carrot, after all. Wearing such a t-shirt in children’s ward, however, meant a lot of unwanted chit-chat with children.

 

Midorima was terribly talentless at that sort of conversations even with adults and with kids? It was plain torture.

 

By the time his shift ended, he was tired, hungry, and angry. He also stank of vomit.

 

As he was driving back home, for a moment his mind was occupied with the hope that the worst was over. It was evening already and he didn’t have an early shift the next day. He would grab some food and maybe finally get to watch that documentary about evil eye amulets of the Middle East. It was this momentary hope and lack of attention that brought his downfall. By the time he realised the shocked face of the man right in front of his moving car it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

 

The man was lying on the ground and groaning from the pain and as a doctor he probably should have given first aid but instead they spent the initial five minutes arguing whose fault the accident had been. The stranger claimed that it was Midorima who was not looking at where he was driving (which had truth to it that Midorima would of course not admit to this smug jerk) and Midorima claimed it was the stranger who had been jaywalking (and he was about fifty-percent sure about it, but probability had always been on his side so it was likely in reality a full hundred percent—he was convinced). Five minutes later it was obvious that they wouldn’t agree, Midorima actually did examine the man with minimal touching (he was not a fan of touching strangers and years of medical education had taught him a lot of reasons why). The raven haired almost-certainly-jaywalker did not have any open wounds but possibly a slight fracture or flesh injury, based on the way he moaned and held himself in a particular position. They decided to postpone the police business and instead to go to a hospital. Since the man was in no shape to walk, Midorima had to carry him to his car, which was one of the most agonising experiences of his life.

 

“Takao,” the man said as Midorima was getting into the car himself. “Takao Kazunari. What’s your name Mr. Careless Driver?”

 

Midorima gave the dirtiest side-eye he could manage and it was very dirty, he knew for a fact; he made Kise cry because of it on multiple occasions and even received scolding from Akashi for it. Howbeit, by what must be a trick of fate, this Takao person was completely unaffected. He even smirked.

 

“Midorima Shintarou.”

 

The smirk soon lost itself as Midorima was starting the car and for a second there, Midorima thought his glare had produced its desired fruits, however after a delay. Unfortunately, soon it became evident that it was for a whole another reason:

 

“Please tell me you’re not a weirdo serial killer or something and please don’t kill me…”

 

“What?! No! What is wrong with you?”

 

It had been months since the last time someone actually made him raise his voice—he would have to commend Takao for this achievement. He couldn’t help his shock—it was such a ridiculous and horrendous accusation.

 

“Me? What’s wrong with _you_? There’s a creepy doll on your dash!”

 

“Oh that…” Midorima rolled his eyes without leaving them from the road even for a split second—he was not going to fall victim to another collision today. “It was the only one with purple hair I could find. And it is not creepy; it’s an exquisite sample that actually cost quite a bit.”

 

“Ugh… Dude, I don’t care how much you paid for it; it is creepy.”

 

Midorima rolled his eyes again; sure, the fact that the doll was pregnant was rather strange as well as its sizeable eyes but it was in no way creepy.

 

“So… it’s what? A hobby? You’re a collector? Still very bizarre.”

 

Midorima shrugged; “It’s just the lucky item of the day for Cancers. A purple haired doll.”

 

“Oh…” Takao hummed then shook his head. “No, actually, I still don’t get it. I guess you _are_ some kind of a weirdo but at least the harmlessly superstitious type?”

 

“What? What are you insinuating—“

 

“Never mind. Can I… Can I just at least turn her face down? The way she’s looking directly at me is really freaking me out.”

 

“Yeah, you can.”

 

“Thank God!” Takao moved to put the doll such that it faced the other way but the action also elicited a deeply suffering moan which… might have caused a very, _very_ tiny grain of guilt in the pit of Midorima’s stomach.

 

“You’re… hurting?”

 

“Yup, such a surprise, huh? Would you believe it?! I’m _actually_ hurting after getting hit by a car. What a wonder. Jeez, how did you guess? You must be a doctor or something.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Huh what?”

 

“Wait—you’re really a doctor?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Wo-wow. Okay. You’re also not good with sarcasm I guess?”

 

Midorima’s eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed. Yes, he was utterly inadequate when it came to sarcasm but he didn’t have to confess it to this random guy—did he?

 

“Yeah, you’re really not.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“You didn’t have to.”

 

“Is that so? How did you know? Are you a clairvoyant?”

 

Midorima smiled haughtily aware that he had made a successful comeback— _that worked right?_

 

“Maybe?”

 

The sudden and unconscious movement of Midorima’s foot to the gas caused them both a big scare.

 

“Shit. Are you trying to kill me or something you murderer-in-training?! Aaah… I think you really broke something this time. It hurts so much.”

 

“Stop being stupid. And dramatic. You keep clutching your chest; if you had broken anything there you wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

 

“Oh so you actually gave me a proper check? When did that happen because I don’t remember you giving me any proper first aid. Doctor-san.”

 

Midorima cleared his throat—now that he thought about it, he probably should have been more attentive. All in all though, he had examined roughly with his hands before carrying Takao and also carefully with his eyes—the man really did not appear to be in that much trouble and besides they were literally driving to a hospital. What else did he want from him? _To kiss it better?_

 

Still… what Takao had just revealed swirled around in his mind teasingly. _Could it really be true?_ He peered at his now-silent passenger, only to find him with his eyes closed and hugging his chest loosely still.

 

“So…” Midorima tried—he generally wasn’t a fan of human communication but this could have been a once in a lifetime opportunity. “How strong is your gift?”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Your abilities?”

 

“My abilities for what?”

 

“For clairvoyance of course.”

 

Takao’s eyes shot open and he openly gawked at him for a moment and then… then started laughing.

 

“What?”

 

“God… You’re—Oh Holy Fuck. My chest hurts. One way or another you’re set to kill me today...”

 

“What? Nonsense! For the umpteenth time: I’m not a killer. I’m a doctor.”

 

Takao snorted only to promptly whimper and grumble.

 

“And I’m not a clairvoyant, of course…”

 

_What a bummer_.

 

This Takao person was back to being uninteresting. _Maybe apart from his voice._ He had a nice voice—like a singer’s. A bit velvety but also cheerfully high even though he was mostly busy griping. Or perhaps Midorima was hallucinating from fatigue and starvation.

 

“I’m actually a psychologist.”

 

Midorima snickered, which for some reason did not ruffle Takao as intended and only caused him to titter and then moan once more.

 

“As sweet as your small talk is, I think I really need medical care. Not that _you_ would know.”

 

Midorima’s ‘chatting’ was never sweet. He gave a disturbed glance only for Takao to return a Cheshire grin, toothy and entertained. At least his teeth were very healthy and clean. Midorima appreciated that—he had almost become a dentist when he was younger. Though his career plans had taken him elsewhere, he still thought dental care was important.

 

“Hmm… with that look, I guess you actually do understand sarcasm now and then? Or are your small talk skills that bad?”

 

Midorima fidgeted in his seat as he took the corner towards the street that overlooked the hospital’s back entrance.

 

“So they are? Aw. It’s kind of cute actually.”

 

If there was a single word that Midorima Shintarou was not called, even once, in his all 27 years alive, it was “cute”. (Perhaps he had been called that when he had been a baby—he did not know and thought it wouldn’t count anyway.)

 

“Preposterous…” He hissed but could feel the slight warmth creeping his cheekbones— _goddamn physiology_.

 

Takao “hmm”ed suspiciously and Midorima tried his best to focus on parking correctly in the staff parking lot.  He helped Takao out of the car afterwards and took him to the ER. It didn’t occur to him that he could’ve simply left the chatty-nosy stranger to the care of his colleagues and go his merry way. Or maybe he was trying to be civil to avoid a possible police claim. Or maybe it was the guilt that throbbed every time Takao whimpered. _Probably not_.

 

Takao did not stop speaking despite constantly groaning of pain. Even during X-ray. By the time the diagnosis (the tiniest crack Midorima had ever seen on one rib and slight flesh injuries on his hips) was complete and Kiyoshi-san was prescribing him painkillers, Takao had already extracted all basic identification information of out Midorima, alongside a variety of other titbits that the young doctor found odd; such as his favourite colour and sexual orientation. _What use could they ever be to Takao?_

 

Kiyoshi-san did advise staying the night at the hospital for the possibility of a head trauma but Takao was adamant that he hadn’t hit his head and Midorima confirmed as a witness. Hence, they were soon free to go, Takao’s aching now soothed with medication.

 

“You’re not going to leave me now, right?” Takao drawled once they were back outside. The air was crisp and it had started snowing; fluffy flakes falling off the sky in almost slow motion and covering anything and everything, including them. The minute crystals getting caught in Takao’s inky hair; Midorima thought his bangs were a bit too long, perhaps needed a haircut, or perhaps not… The sight gave him an unknown feeling he couldn’t properly describe. It was nice. Maybe. But for all intents and purposes, he had thought of leaving Takao after calling a cab for him.

 

“What… What do you want? You want to go to the police?”

 

It was already very late and he was hungry and the idea of his impeccably clean record being stained this way was frustrating. Takao smiled—it was kind of pretty, if Midorima had to be honest. He hadn’t expected Takao to smile either.

 

“Not police, no. But I’m kind of y’know—injured and starving. The least you could do, as the cause of my wounds… is to buy me dinner and drive me home? Hmm?”

 

Takao was still beaming at him in that calm manner and his eyes… For the first time that night Midorima realised, under the light pollution and hospital’s lights, how a peculiar shade of blue they were. A bit like the sea when it’s calm. A bit like a summer’s sky right after sunset.

 

For all intents and purposes, Midorima planned to say “no” but what came out of his mouth was a quiet, “whatever, fine…”

 

He blinked, rather surprised at his own words and would take it back too, if Takao had not switched to grinning and pulling Midorima towards the car park.

 

After he helped Takao back into the car, he himself walked around to get in. When he was fastening his seat belt, he heard Takao murmur something like, “…and here I thought I’d spend Valentine’s alone.”

 

Midorima thought he couldn’t have heard it right. “What?”

 

Takao considered him with amusement for a second before smiling; “Just saying that orange suits you.”

 

That definitely did not sound like what Midorima had heard but his doubts were muted with the realisation of what he was just told.

 

“No, it doesn’t.”

 

“Yes, it does. Makes you look cute Shin-chan.”

 

“Okay, you can’t be that high on drugs. The painkillers Kiyoshi-san gave you weren’t that strong…” Midorima stated as professionally as he could, while he manoeuvred out of the parking space. Takao chuckled and then moaned and the sound, coupled with the fruity fragrance Takao wore which somehow Midorima just started recognising (and it was slightly tinted with antiseptic but he had become used to that scent long ago), made it feel… intimate, almost. Normally Midorima would be bothered but he was not.

 

Quite the opposite… it gave him rather improper ideas. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his head and for an unfathomable reason Takao was smirking.

 

“So,” Midorima started with the hopes of changing the topic and thus the direction his mind was going, “what do you want to eat?”

 

“Mmm… wouldn’t say no to some kimchi jjigae. Know any good Korean places?”

 

He knew a few, some shabby some decent. Then there was this one place Akashi once took him—a bit expensive but well established and both the setting and the food were splendid. He changed his route towards there.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Cool… Y’know what, Shin-chan?”

 

“My name is Midorima Shintarou.”

 

“Yes, yes… So y’know what Shin-chan, you look quite weird and, well, act a bit—not a bit actually, who am I kidding— _a lot_ weird too… _But!_ I actually think it’s kind of cute.” Takao explained out of blue, his finger absentmindedly poking the doll lying still on the dashboard front of him.

 

Midorima felt some unwarranted crawling and clenching and—fluttering, was it? _Yes, definitely fluttering_ , in his stomach.

 

“Preposterous…” He replied as he furrowed his eyebrows and concentrated on the road, unfortunately aware of the blush spreading across his neck… and Takao laughed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Actually, Midorima was not looking at the road and Takao was jaywalking-- it wasn't either; it was both.


End file.
